


Peverell's Patisserie

by BlackInkBlueParchment, GreenInkSilverParchment (BlackInkBlueParchment)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Canon-Typical Violence, Comedy, Cooking, Death, Dessert & Sweets, Eventual Mass Homicide, Female Harry Potter, Funny Protagonist, Humor, Magic, Manipulation, Master of Death (Harry Potter), Multi, Multiple Items of Worth, Pastries, Strong Female Characters, Violent Backstory, lots of sugar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2019-09-30 15:09:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17226323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackInkBlueParchment/pseuds/BlackInkBlueParchment, https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackInkBlueParchment/pseuds/GreenInkSilverParchment
Summary: Peverell's Patisserie, a popular new attraction for the people of New York city, known far and wide for it's delectable pastries and sweets. Hyacinth Black is proud to own so fine an establishment, however, with the enormous population of NYC, she finds herself needing a little assistance at the counter.But she has one rule: No Magic. The consequences of casting even a single spell had repercussions she'd rather not dwell on. As much as her dear friend Marvolo insists she consider it.And so, between fending off her goods from the metal flying Gryffindor, and feeding an Asgardian and his girlfriend, Hyacinth realises she needs to hire help.And help comes in the form of a timid scientist specialising in radiation, and a bold ex-soldier who abides by every rule.





	1. Sugar meet Iron

Peverell’s Patisserie had only been open for a few weeks and already business was booming, as they say. Selling everything from the best sausage rolls a person could ask for, to the sweetest caramel glazed chocolate tartlets money could buy. The shop was quaint and neat, a corner store really, but word spreads quickly, and soon it was one of the most popular stores you could find, much to the disdain of the owner.

Peverell’s Patisserie, you see, was no ordinary Patisserie. The corner store was linked to corner stores of different names all around the world. In England, Blacks Bakery, in Australia, ‘Potters Pie-factory, in France, the Boulangerie Noir, and many others in Germany, Russia, Canada, Sweden, India. Everywhere really. And the woman managing it all was none other than Hyacinth Black. 

But none were so busy as the one in New York. Usually, Hyacinth could run the store all by herself, not really needing the revenue, but working because she enjoyed it and needed something to fill up time. But at Peverell’s Patisserie, New York city, Hyacinth found herself needing a spare hand at the counter. 

However, she loathed to put out an advertisement. She could just see the swarms of people dying to learn her recipes and gain reputation by working at ‘The hottest joint in town’. It was a bakery for goodness sake! Not a bar!

However, she digresses. 

And then, twenty minutes before closing, clemency was granted in a rather unexpected form. A harried looking lady with red hair and green eyes that looked so much like her mother it was almost upsetting, walked through the door.

She strode up to the counter.

Hyacinth granted her a smile, “Is there anything in particular you would like to try? Or have you a specific treat in mind?”

“My boss is a pain in the ass,” was all the woman could manage, “I need something to bribe him with,”

“Has he a sweet tooth?”

“An understatement, mind, he’ll eat anything if it’s good,”

Hyacinth smiled.

“Very well!” she scanned the rows of pastries until she found what she was looking for, “Your boss, is he a hands on type, or a desk type?”

“Hands on, definitely, why?” the lady raised a brow.

“Eh, helps me decide whether he’d like the pie or the brownie. Brownie it is~” she removed the gooiest, oozing chocolate brownie the lady had ever seen, and placed it in a paper bag. She then prepared a second bag and placed in it a strange looking cupcake, covered with glaze, “And this one, is for you. Free of charge,”

“Oh no, I couldn’t—” the lady protested as she punched the numbers into the cash register.

“Too late,” Hyacinth brushed the card the lady was holding out over the credit reader and it beeped to signify a successful transaction, “Now, knock him dead,”

She shooed the woman out the door with a smile that the lady returned.

“Hope to see you again~!” she waved, and turned the sign to closed, ten minutes early.

She counted the money in the register, and added on the digital transactions, then began cleaning the shelves, removing the few leftover pastries and boxing them. She finished cleaning the counter and refrigerated and normal shelving, then took the boxes out the back. She had cleaned her equipment prior and so took off after to the nearest red-cross shelter in Australia to donate the remainder of the pastries. She returned to the shop and walked up the stairs in the back room to her apartment. She began scrolling through the shop’s website and Facebook page. 

She had up a poll for different pastries to introduce, asking which ones would be most appreciated. So far the brandy snaps with chocolate mousse filling was at the top. 

“Very well!” she smiled.

She clicked on the image of the top treat, about to post that she would begin trials tomorrow, when another comment popped up on the thread.

Oh dear lord these look divine! Tried the glazed cakelet today and it is to die for! The owner is so nice as well! My boss loved the brownies! –Pepper Potts.

Hyacinth smiled in appreciation.

I’m so glad everyone likes the look of these! Trials will be starting tomorrow, and if enough are sold, they will become a permanent product of the store! –PeverellPatisserie

She was about to turn off her laptop, when something stopped her. She got an odd look on her face and clicked on the name ‘Pepper Potts’. As expected, the page was mostly private, apart from a brief profile.

“She works at Stark Industries then, eh? I wonder if my brownie was eaten by Stark himself?” she sat and pondered for a bit, “Nah, couldn’t be,”

She closed the laptop, after adding the brandy-snap-mousse to the food list on the official website, and lay down on her bed with a book.

She didn’t get far into it however. She was asleep in minutes. Truly, running so many bakeries was tiring, but rewarding. However, with the addition of the first American branch, she was positively dying!

When she woke up, it was a little after three in the morning, and she thanked the gods she hadn’t overslept.

She didn’t bother changing out of her pyjamas, they were just a modest cotton top and bottom, in a traditional collar and button style, and long pants. Both were green without trim. She slapped a hairnet over her hair and tied on a white apron. She yawned as she entered the bakery and began to measure out copious amounts of sugar to prepare the glazes and caramels, preheating various ovens, and starting with the mixing. 

After two hours hard labour, she had a twenty minute interval to shower and get dressed, while the various cakes cooked and cooled. She was up the stairs in seconds, showering for five minutes, before dressing in plain black clothing, tying her hair into a knot, and putting back on the white apron and hairnet. She was back stairs in time to begin icing and shaping and glazing and setting out on racks. 

The brandy snaps were the last to go out, into the refrigerated shelves. They were also the most fun to make. A webbing of brandy toffee folded, still warm, around a rolling pin, then piped full of a thick chocolate mousse. Set on paper doilies for presentation with a chalk-board sign labelling them as her new product with the price. A few of the brandy snaps had cracked when she rolled them too cold, so she tipped them into a small jar so she could dip them into the remaining chocolate mousse. 

“Oh my~” she squealed, “Yep! Definitely a brilliant idea!”

On the dot of six, the patisserie’s opened. Because the shop didn’t sell bread, except in the French branch, she didn’t get many morning customers. A few now and then, but the early mornings were usually quite relaxing. But surprisingly, seconds after the dot of six, the same red haired lady entered the shop.

“Ah! You again! Back for more?”

“Yes please,” the lady said. She was considerably less frazzled than last time, “Three brownies, two of the new things, an éclair, a caramel fudge tartlet, a golden pecan pie, a lemon meringue and a glazed cupcake,”

Hyacinth blinked, then laughed.

“Jeeze! That’s more sugar than is healthy, does your boss have heart problems?”

“I wish,” Pepper nodded.

Hyacinth readied the order, then passed over the jar and the mousse.

“Try some, I doubt your boss will let you have any of his. There are some improvements that need to be made, especially in construction. I need to add salt to the brandy mix, there’s a hint of tartness to it that doesn’t rub right, but the mousse seems to cover that well. And as you can see,” she flushed, indicating the broken snaps, “I need some practise at making them,”

Pepper hesitantly took a piece of the brandy and with it scooped up some mousse. She ate it whole and melted almost instantly.

“Oh my god!” she cried, “You made these!?”

“Yup! I came up with the recipe myself!” she grinned proudly, “I’m Hyacinth, by the way,”

They shook hands.

“Pepper,” the lady replied. Hyacinth knew her name, but it’s rude to internet-stalk people, so she pretended she hadn’t.

“You do all this cooking by yourself?” she clarified.

“Yup! This is a completely singular and self-run business! I refuse to entrust my recipe’s to anyone else. However, with the growing popularity, I’m going to have to hire someone to work the counter. Especially in the afternoons, the amount of people in here is insane!” she sighed, “Unfortunately, the trouble that comes with ‘help-wanted’ fliers, is that too much help wants to be wanted,”

“I… I completely understand that,” Pepper stole another brandy shard and mousse, “What kind of person do you need?”

“Someone who can stay calm in situations with lots of demanding and nosy people and who won’t try to steal my recipes,” she said firmly, “Someone kind and polite to customers too, preferably,”

“Hmm… I have a few friends looking for casual work that may suit the job. If you like, I would be willing to ask after them,” Pepper offered.

“That would be… perfect, I think. I forgot to ask, did the brownies work in bribing your boss?” Hyacinth questioned.

“I gave him half and he was begging at my feet for more. He managed to finish all of his paperwork as well! However, today he’s at a board meeting. I’ll be needing all of these to get him dressed and out of bed, and then to attend the meeting,” Pepper sighed at the prospect. 

“Hah! Maybe I should start a line of lolly-jars then. Just keep it in your pocket, and whenever you need your lazy boss to do his job, shake the jar and he’ll come running,” she laughed.

“Oh don’t tempt me!” Pepper exclaimed, then checked her watch, “Oh cripes! It was lovely talking but I’m going to be too late to get my boss awake! How can we get in touch?”

“Just call the bakery number. I’m the only person on the phones,” she waved her hand in dismissal, “Now get that ass out of bed,”

Pepper saluted, laughing, and strolled off to a sleek looking car.

The day was pleasantly stress-free. Not too many angry customers, or people in general. Still more than she could reasonably handle, but relatively quiet in comparison with the afternoons after the schools let out and she gets dozens of kids swarming in and out. For once she didn’t have any try to steal either, which was wonderful.

Before she knew it, she was shooing out the last customer of the day. She was counting the money when the door opened once more.

“We’re closed. Sorry,” she didn’t look up, trying not to lose count. She jotted down a number then moved to the next stack, placing the first stack in the lock-box.

“So this is the place Pepper has been getting those delicious goodies from,” a voice said.

“Mr Stark, if you do not leave the premises, I’m calling the police for charges of trespass,” she grunted, not looking up. She jotted down a second number.

“Aww, no ‘Oh my god it’s Tony Stark’?” he replied.

“Oh my god, it’s Pepper’s hellish boss. Get out before I start with the salt,” she said, counting the third, shorter stack.

“Rude,” he stated.

She took a handful of salt from the jar under the counter and threw it at him unabashedly.

He raised an arm in defence.

“Hey! That was uncalled for!” he complained.

Hyacinth took out her phone, still counting the fourth stack, and feigned dialling 911.

“Police please,” she said after a pause, “Yes. Hi, I have a strange man in my shop after closing. Yes. Ah, the Peverell Patisserie. Yes, very threatening. Ah, tall, dark hair and beard, bug-eyes. Expensive suit, ugly shoes, very rude. Uh huh. Alright, “

She finally looked up at him, “The police are on their way,” she covered the speaker, “Leave,”

“I just wanted to order more of the—”

“No. I only serve during open hours, and only to polite and sensible people like your all-but mother, Pepper, who I hear had to drag you out of bed herself to get you to a board meeting of the company you run and own. So I’d advise getting out of my building before I go for my gun and plea self-defence,” she drawled.

Stark held up his hands in surrender.

“Fine, fine, don’t serve the billionaire who could very well make you a very rich lady,”

“I happen to be extremely well off myself and in no need of patronage,” she glared.

“Then why work?”

“Because it’s fun,” she slammed the door in his face, hoping to hit his nose, before packing away the left-over food and cleaning up shop.

It was an hour later, just before she began to nod-off, that her phone began to buzz.

“Hello, Peverell’s Patisserie, how may I help you?” she answered.

“Hyacinth? It’s Pepper. I’m calling about those job applications,” she received.

“Oh! Pepper! Your boss called in earlier,”

“Damn,”

“I threw salt at him and pretended to call the cops,” she assured.

There was silence, before raucous laughter.

“I think I like this girl,” an unknown voice stated.

“Hmm,” another agreed.

“Ah, the two you hear are possible candidates for the job,” Pepper explained, “Good friends of mine. They’re currently lodging with me, but are looking at finding their own places,”

“Is that so?” Hyacinth queried, “And they fit the criteria?”

“Perfectly,” there was some muffled argument in the background, “They’re asking after the pay,”

“Not much I’m afraid, Twenty five dollars an hour, from six until twelve, and twelve until six,” she smirked secretly.

There was more muffled argument.

“That’s well above minimum wage, that is definitely a lot. Are you sure you can sustain as much?”

“Pepper, do you know how much a business as successful as mine earns? Wait, I take it back, you do. I suppose it may not seem like it then, but I earn way more money than you think, and I have no need for it. I may not look it, but I have more money from my parents than I know what to do with. Running a patisserie was purely for my own amusement. So if one of the two would like to work the first six-hour shift, and the other the second, I would have no problem with the wage. There will be a half hour break between nine and nine thirty, and two and two thirty. Do either of them have allergies?”

“None,” one voice said.

“I have no allergies,” the other seconded. 

“Very well. I’d like to meet you both tomorrow. It’s Saturday, so there will be a lot more customers during the day, especially teenagers. Come at five-thirty for the interview, and at six we’ll do a trail run. It’s early, I know, but after six we’re going to have customers so any later will be difficult,” she said, “Wear all black if you can,”

“They’ll be there,” Pepper sounded quite pleased, “And I’ll be by at six to pick up a few things for my boss. He doesn’t want to go back. He tells me you threatened him with a gun,”

“Only after he refused to be exorcised by the salt,” Hyacinth sniffed.

There was laughter.

“Alright, I’ll see you then. Goodbye,”

“Bye,” she hung up.

“Oh la la, this’ll be interesting,” she sighed. She put down the phone, only for it to start ringing again seconds later.

“Peverell’s Patisserie—”

“HIDE YOUR RECIPES! TONY’S COMING!” was screeched in her ear.

“On it!” she hung up. 

She sighed and flopped down on her bed. A second later she sat up and turned on her lamp. She slipped her feet into slippers, grabbed an item from her bedside drawer, and walked down the stairs, just as she heard her back door click open. The metal-clad head that peaked through was immediately met with a gun.


	2. Hopefuls meet Fate

“Sir, I told you before, I don’t serve customers after hours,” she yawned, gun loose in her hand, stance deceptively relaxed.

“And this armour is bulletproof,” she could taste the smugness radiating off of him. 

“And this gun doesn’t care,” she flicked the light switch on and shot, without looking, a titanium pot hanging from the ceiling that she used to make caramel. It pierced through both sides and continued to embed itself in the second story roof, “Leave,”

“That is one powerful gun! Where did you get it? What’s it made of?” he inquired, noting her posture, while slouched, was tense, her eyes aware and her feet unmoving, “I bet it wouldn’t pierce my armour,”

“Mr Stark, it’s eight o’clock and I’m exhausted. I wake up at three every morning. It’s already late as it is. Now get out of my shop,” he detected a note of warning in her tone.

“Only if you, one; tell me how you knew I was here, and two; give me the recipe for the brandy snaps,” he reasoned genially. 

“Red and gold is as conspicuous as it gets. And no. All my recipes I keep up here,” she tapped her head, “And the majority of them are spur of the moment. Now scram before I call animal control. Clearly the threat of police isn’t enough for you. You now face charges of trespass as well as breaking and entering with the intent of theft and bodily harm,”

“Wait, I’m not going to harm you!”

“And yet you show up in highly weaponised armour. Leave or I shoot and call Pepper,” she threatened, “You are not welcomed in my shop and I hereby refuse to sell to you in the foreseeable future,”

After a little more fuss, he left, and she watched him leave so she was sure he wouldn’t come back.

When she was sure he was gone, she turned back to her kitchen and looked despairingly at her pot.

“Damn. That was dumb of me. I loved that pot. That was my mother’s pot. She warmed my milk in that pot,” she stated to no one. 

Then she sighed. 

“Fine,”

She turned a discreet looking dial hidden by the door to ‘D’, and stepped out of the shop.

She found herself in Diagon Alley in the early morning. She took the pot with her as she travelled the streets until she found the entrance to the Ministry. She walked up the stairs and into the building.

“State your name and purpose,” the administrator drawled.

“Hyacinth Black. Here to speak with the minister,” she said.

The Administrators eyes widened dramatically, “Yes, of course ma’am! Right away. Please, go right through,”

She rolled her eyes and wandered through the building until she came to the office she was looking for. She knocked politely and was let in after a minute.

“Ah, Hyacinth. It has been a while,” the man looked up from his paperwork with a small smile.

She plonked the pot on his desk so he could see the bullet holes.

“Could you fix this for me?”

“I’ve been very well, yes. The other day I finally passed the bill on the vampire equality law. Oh yes, some resistance, but I managed it in the end,” the man said, “And by the looks of this pot, you haven’t been well?”

“I’m sorry,” she looked down ashamed and plonked herself on a chair, “It’s good to see you Marvolo,”

“You as well,” he smiled again, “And this pot is for…?”

“I need you to fix it. And the hole in my roof, but I can fix that one easily. Mostly just the pot,” she said.

“Were you in some sort of muggle altercation?”

“Without a wand, I’m afraid I have to resort to more gruesome means to defend myself. I was met with an intruder to the store in New York, and had to prove my gun could best his armour. So I shot the pot. It was stupid of me, I know. I regret damaging the pot,” she bowed her head, “Please fix it,”

“You know, if you would just take that wand, or even repair your first one, you wouldn’t need me to repair a cooking pot. I won’t insult you by saying you wouldn’t need to cook, Merlin knows you beat the house elves nine in ten times, but you should at least consider taking the wand,” Marvolo sighed.

“I know. But… I couldn’t stand it. Immortality. I don’t understand how you’re managing so well with the prospect. I received the warning with the cloak, and another when I found your stone, again, sorry about that. I don’t want to live forever. It would be so sad to see people I’ve grown attached to die of age and sickness, and knowing I will never join them,” she sighed.

“Once again, you’re forgiven for the ring, but you’ve overlooked one small factor. You wouldn’t be alone. Anyone you lose you can still speak with. You could hunt down an Asgardian to befriend, I saw one has recently visited earth after all. And as well as that…” he hesitated, “You’ll always have me. I will be beside you for eternity should you want me. It is a strange human need, companionship, but I find even I have retained it. And there are times when I’m deathly terrified of the infinite future stretched out before me. However, I am consoled by the fact that just because everyone I know now will die, there will always be other people, other planets. And, should you choose to take up your rightful mantle, you will also be there,” 

“Marvolo…” she smiled softly, “You always know just what to say. Bloody Slytherin,”

“Stupid Gryffindor,” he returned fondly, and repaired her pot.

“I’ll think about it. I’ll properly consider every fact. Thank you,” she bowed her head respectfully, and stood, taking the pot under her arm.

“Anytime, Hyacinth,” Marvolo stood and took a mask from the wall. He placed it over his face and it melted to his skin, changing red eyes blue, pale skin tanned, dark hair blond. 

“I shall walk you to your shop,” he said.

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“But I insist. Truly, the paperwork is droll and I require reprieve from my desk,” Marvolo admitted.

And so it was that Hyacinth and Marvolo exited the Ministry, arms linked. Within fifteen minutes, they were at her shop once more.

“Oh! That reminds me. Come inside for a sec, there’s something you absolutely must try!” she raced around the kitchen. She hadn’t donated any of the leftovers today, there wasn’t enough left, however, there was one brandy snap left. Perfect and fresh from refrigeration.

She brought it out and handed it to an amused Marvolo, “Trust me, you’ll love it!”

“You know I’m not a fan of sweet foods,” he warned.

“I know, but this may just be the exception,” she smiled.

“Very well,” he sighed and daintily bit into the treat. After a moment, he froze and stared at the treat. He slowly took another bite, this one not so careful. And soon it was finished. He blinked as if shocked, “What on earth was that!?”

“My latest and greatest! Brandy snap and chocolate mousse. Brilliant, isn’t it?”

“I believe you have swayed me,” Marvolo spoke dryly, “Thank Merlin it’s November,”

“Err… why?”

“Because next comes December, and on order of the British Minister of Magic, you will be supplying these at the annual Yule Ball,” he commanded.

“You know I don’t like those things,”

“Your attendance isn’t mandatory, only your food,” he waved a hand in dismissal.

“And that makes me feel so much better,” she groaned, “Goodnight Marvolo,”

“Good morning, Hyacinth,” he said softly, and left her to sleep.

Her sleep that night was short but refreshing. She woke at three and commenced cooking, adding a tad more salt to the brandy. At five thirty, there came a knock on the bakery door. She smiled and dusted her hands on her apron. She unlocked the bakery door to let two men inside. Both were in black pants and shirts. 

The two men were very different in appearance. The first was taller, blond and very muscular. The second was shorter and well-built with black hair. The first seemed like a Gryffindor at first, but was a definite Hufflepuff at heart. She could smell the kindness radiating off of him. The second was shy, but with a hidden intelligence. Ravenclaw definitely.

“Ah, you must be the two Pepper mentioned who I heard on the phone,” she smiled and crossed hands to shake with both at once, “My name is Hyacinth, proud owner of Peverell’s Patisserie. Peverell is my grandmothers family name,”

“Steve Rodgers,” the blond man smiled.

“Bruce Banner,” the dark haired man nodded.

“Well, come into the back. Less public,” she indicated the windows and glass door.

She led them past the counter where she paused and handed them both black aprons with her shops name embroidered on the front, “Whenever you’re working, you wear one of these. If you need to go into the kitchen, you wear a hairnet if you’ve got long hair. Health and safety stuff, but it’s better safe than sorry,”

She handed Bruce a dark hairnet and Steve a lighter one, so that they were less noticeable.

She sat them down at a prep table.

“Alright, shortest to tallest,” she grinned, “Bruce, tell me a bit about yourself,”

“Err… I’m a scientist specialising in radiation but I haven’t been able to get a job anywhere, so I’ve been staying with some friends,” he said.

“Which form of radiation? I’ve always been fascinated with alpha radiation myself, the idea that particles able to be stopped by paper can cause so much damage if inhaled,”

“Gamma, actually,” Bruce corrected softly.

“Oh! Are you in nuclear energy and energy efficiency then?”

“Something like that,”

“Huh… alright, favourite colour? Favourite sweet? Romantic partners?” she smiled warmly.

“I don’t really have any of those… although lemon tarts are nice…” she nodded in acceptance.

“That they are. And you? Tall man. Introduce yourself,”

“As I said, my name is Steve Rodgers. I was in the army until I was put on casualty leave. Unfortunately, an army pension isn’t enough for New York, so I’m looking for work to rent a flat. I like blue, red and white are also appreciated. I’m not overly fond of sweets, but I’ll go for brownie now and then,” he summarised proudly.

“Hah. Interesting. Well, I’m Hyacinth, as I said, I’m twenty five. I’ve never been to university, but I went to a private school in Scotland, where I finished my first mastery at fifteen, second at eighteen, and third this year. All in incredibly obscure subjects however. Ancient runes and lost dialects, spontaneous combat and an offshoot of experimental chemistry. My aunt taught me to cook when I was little, so while I haven’t had formal training, I’ve still technically had twenty years of experience. I like green a lot, and I will eat almost everything in this store except for the peppermint things or things with nuts. I don’t like either. Cooking them is fun though. In case you couldn’t tell, I’m from England. Surrey, specifically,” she beamed, “You both seem like perfect candidates for the job. What you would be doing is serving and assisting customers, the kitchen isn’t off bounds, however, my recipes are my own. Any attempt to copy them will be met with extreme prejudice. Just ask that man who tried breaking in last night. Red and gold armour, heard of him?”

Steve managed to choke out an affirmative.

“People like that? There’s a gun under the counter. My friends a lawyer, a damn good one too. You’d get off scot-free, so… yeah, there’s that. oh, and you get a free treat during breaks. Any questions?” she smiled.

Bruce put his hand up.

“Yes Mr Banner,” she smiled.

“Could you show us how to work the register?”

“Right, I knew I forgot something. Alright,” she stood and motioned for them to follow. She drew up by the register, “Whenever you get a pastry from the shelves, the tongs and-or gloves. It can be a little awkward at first, and difficult not to squash the product, but you’ll get used to it. Ah, this is a fairly standard register. All of the pastry names are accompanied by pictures, so if you don’t know what it’s called, just tap on the picture. If you’ve tapped the wrong picture or the customer changed their mind, go to the picture of the cart and tap on the picture again so it disappears, then go back to the picture of the house. When you’re done, go back to the cart and press ‘Pay & Go’, ask the customer if they’re paying in cash or by card. 

“If they say card, press the picture of the card that pops up, if by cash, the picture of the money. If by card, tell them the price and hand them the card reader, this thing here, and they can take it from there. As soon as it says ‘transaction successful’, give them the receipt that comes out by itself, wish them a good day and send them on their way. If by cash, tell them the price and take the money they hand over. 

“There are labelled slots in the draw that automatically pops out, and it’ll say on the screen what to give as change. I don’t know how this new-fangled technology does it, but it works. Give them the receipt and a smile, the send them off. Close the draw and move onto the next customer. Sometimes you will be swarmed by them, so stay calm and don’t panic and kindly request they get in a line. If they refuse, get me and I’ll help you get them in order,”

“Right…” it was a bit to take in, but it seemed fairly straight forwards.

“I so know what you mean with the technology,” Steve agreed, “Like those tiny touch-phones. What are they called now-a-days… landlines! Yes, landlines were far better in my opinion,” 

“I’m with you there. My aunt only ever had a landline, and my school didn’t permit technology, so I get where you’re coming from,” she nodded. She checked her wristwatch, “Ah! And it’s opening time!”

She practically skipped to the door and turned the sign to open. As with the day before, Pepper was her first customer.

“Hey Pepper, you get to be the first person served by Bruce here. I’m going to get more brandy snaps and start filling them. They were really popular yesterday, I was still making more of them by four,” she disappeared into the kitchen with only a final statement, “Take turns with serving you two,”

She got to work, boiling sugar and water, adding salt and brandy and various other ingredients, until she had a pot full of hot brown liquid. She left it to boil off excess water until it decreased by a third of the size. While she waited, she began beating cream, melting chocolate and butter and a small amount of milk, which she added to the cream along with sugar, salt, vanilla and a few dollops of caramel. She paused before adding in just a pinch of ground cinnamon to one of the batches. 

She stuffed all of the mousse into the fridge to stiffen, then went back over to the brandy mix. She took a ladle and onto baking paper drizzled knights-cross circles that spread out to a thick lace pattern. Once she had ladled out the entire mixture, she put aside the pot and began, with a plain rolling pin, to form cylinders. She put those into the refrigerated storing and put powdered sugar and milk on to boil in a clean pot, with a little vanilla.

She peeked out the door, almost an hour after she had set them to work, to see both her new workers quite happily going about their jobs, easily working the machine and communicating well with her customers. She definitely liked these two, and by the looks of it, so did her customers. 

During the breakfast lull at seven, she pulled them aside and began to clap proudly.

“You’ve both been working excellently! You’re hired! Question is, who will work the mornings and who will work the afternoons. Keep in mind, both are very different conditions. Mornings, while marginally slower, work up until the lunch hour and it’s usually when you get the bossiest and rudest customers, and those people who are the fussiest busy-body hurry-ers it gets hard not to laugh at their sense of self-importance. The afternoons are the busiest, especially on weekdays. You get loads of teenagers and parents looking for snacks. 

However, around two thirty, just before the rush hour, there is a mothers group who bring their children around every Wednesday. Most of these children will be around ten months. They’re super cute, so it’s always nice to see them. Remember, we get all sorts in here, from all around the world. Don’t be surprised if you get an Australian at the same time as a German, a Spaniard, an Italian, Russian, Chinese and an Indian. Discrimination is not tolerated from anyone, be it you or the customers. And if you ever need help with anything, just ask,”

Bruce blinked in astonishment, “Ah, I’d like to work the mornings, if you don’t mind,” 

“Afternoons are good with me,” Steve smiled.

“Perfect! You start on Monday, we’re closed Sundays. Come dressed similarly to how you are now. Would a digital transaction for payment be acceptable?”

“Yes,” they both nodded.

“Alright, we’ll sort out payment and contact details over the phone tonight. Call at seven,” a customer came through the door, “And take something each on the way out,”

“We couldn’t—” Steve began to protest.

“Declining would be detrimental. You’re going to have to learn the flavors of everything sold here if a customer asks for recommendation. So take something,” she said. Predictably, Bruce took a small lemon tartlet, and Steve took a chocolate brownie.

After they left, Hyacinth turned to the person she was serving. A regular that came in like clockwork and always ordered different foods.

“Hi, what can I get for you today?”


	3. Liar meet Discomfort

“A strawberry meringue, and a crunchy chocolate puff. Who were those two?” the lady asked, “They kind of look familiar,”

“My new employees. Bruce is the shorter one, working mornings. Steve is the other, working afternoons. You look happy today,” Hyacinth noted, handing over the items. It was true, the lady was positively bubbling.

“Ah, my, err, boyfriend is in New York, it’s a long-distance relationship, and I haven’t seen him in a while, so I’m excited to see him,” she explained, “Last time he was here we didn’t get to see much of each other. His brother had done something stupid and he was here to bring him home. We’ve scheduled a date for Monday. I plan on taking us by here. Any suggestions for treats?”

“Hmm… chocolate for romance, strawberries for love… I’ve got just the thing. Tell me, how tall and how broad is he?” she asked.

“Why would that… to gauge quantity?”

“Nail on the head,”

The lady laughed, “Uh, he’s very tall and broad shouldered. But muscly, not obese. He eats horses. I mean, he could, if you know what I mean,”

“Nice catch?”

“The best,” 

“Alright! What time are you coming by?”

“Afternoon,” 

“Right. Steve will be at the counter then, ask him for Hyacinth. I have just the thing in mind,” she smiled happily, “I can’t wait to meet him,”

“He’s certainly… a character,” the lady said.

“Well, I’ll be seeing you Jane,” she waved her regular goodbye and waited on the next customer. The day continued as it usually would. She was swamped from lunch until four, the line reaching out the door. At around five, a man came in and walked strait to the counter, not looking at the treats.

“Hello,” he said, “My name is Happy. I work for Mr. Stark. I have been told to order ‘whatever looks good’ for Mr. Stark, and so I shall. However, I would like it if you did not give me any food. Just a few paper bags to trick him into letting me drive him home. Ms. Potts requested as much,” 

“I see. Very well,” she made a show of picking out numerous sweets, instead, secretly reaching under the bench and choosing a select cakelet she had made specifically for her would-be home invader.

“Give him this,” she handed the bag over.

She bolted past the kitchen and into her apartment, grabbed a pair of binoculars from the cupboard, and made it downstairs in time to see her customer enter the expensive silver car at the curb. The windows were down to let in fresh air, so she had a clear view of the man in the back seat. The look of delight on his face as he opened the paper bag almost made her feel guilty as he bit into the red colored cake only to find it chili and broccoli flavor, with roasted sprout leaves and sugar on top. Instant disappointment followed by disgust marred his features, and he glared at the store window accusingly, only to see her watching through binoculars with a smile.

He flipped her off, which she restrained herself from returning, and drove off in a huff. 

“He deserved it,” she muttered, justifying herself aloud. 

“What did he do?” the next man in line asked.

“Tried to steal my recipes,”

“A travesty,” the man seemed amused. He purchased a cream-fruit pop and smiled out of the store. 

She watched him on the street bite into the treat and mouth something that looked suspiciously like, ‘Definitely a travesty’.

It was seven when she finished packing up shop, counting the money, donating leftovers to a village somewhere in Africa and cleaning her equipment, so she headed for an early night. She did not dream of much. Not of the past or the present or the future. Not of green light as she had once. Instead, it was a cake with glassy chocolate icing on the base, which was plain apart from the red sprinkles around the edge. On top was a heart, held up on an angle by golden pillars of sugar-glass. The heart was also made of cake, but covered in smooth chocolate icing and then blood red fondant, smooth and glassy with a glaze. Various flowers in various colors surrounded the heart, on which was drawn a curlicue ‘J + *’. She’d have to find out the boyfriend’s name.

She woke up with the steps plotted in her mind. She needed to go for a walk to plot out her motions. China was too crowded, Japan was too plain in November, England was freezing as always. Australia was a viable option, but her shop was too far away from any nice walking places. It seemed she was attuned to New York time at the moment, so she decided to walk there. She pulled on a plain black coat over black jeans and tied a silver and green striped scarf around her neck. She would have worn her red and gold, but it was covered in icing-powder and needed a wash.

She walked around, eyes half closed, not following a specific route. Her feet tapped along softly, legs moving to the beat of the song stuck in her head - a catchy song she heard being played by one of her Filipino customers. She learnt a lot of weird songs that way. Really weird songs

She broke out into a run for no reason but to make her lungs hurt, and revelled in running against the wind. She found herself in a park after a while, and was half tempted to sit down, until she spotted a rather large tree. She grinned, and checked for witnesses. Only a few old ladies whose vision would keep her hidden. She ran to the tree and jumped up, fingers barely wrapping around the first branch, two meters up. She pulled herself up with ease and began clambering up between branches with the grace of a gymnast. Years of seeker practice gave her lithe nimbleness that allowed as much. Still humming various songs, she completed her weekly physical activity by jumping along branches, stretching her limbs thoroughly.

“That’s quite impressive!” a voice called. She turned to see who spoke, but her poor vision rendered only a man shaped blur. However, the voice she knew.

“Thanks! Living in a bakery that sells what is essentially straight sugar, one must use the time one has to exercise. I’m afraid I didn’t bring my glasses, so I can’t tell what you’re doing here,” she smiled.

“Much the same as you. A few laps around the park, strength training and upkeep. Would you mind if I joined you?” Steve asked.

“Not at all. Mind the second branch on your left though, mildew rot,” she smiled as he slowly made his way up, “Definitely done this before. Army training, right?”

“Yes, among others. You?”

“A mix of this sport I used to play at school, and my mastery in spontaneous combat,” she said.

“I don’t believe there is such a thing,”

“It was a weird school,”

“What did you say it was called?”

“I didn’t, and it was completely off the grid. No heating, water from a well, no electricity or internet. You couldn’t find it if you googled it, I checked,” she explained, “And it’s called Hogwarts,”

“Hog… warts…” he said after a pause.

“It was founded by a group of four teachers who used the first letters of their first and middle names. It was the only viable anagram,” she shrugged.

“It sounds like an awful place,”

“You would think so, but it was built as a castle. We had servants to heat the water in the morning, feasts held on huge tables, balls held at yule and the best teachers,” she smiled.

“You keep saying ‘was’,”

“My school was obliterated. Sure, it was rebuilt recently, but, ah, it’s not my school any longer,” she said.

“I… I can relate. I’ve been away from America for over a decade, and it just isn’t the same as it was. It kept changing while I was away,” 

“I hear you,” she sighed, “Hey, you’re tall and muscly. Imagine you’ve just returned to New York, after having to go home and deal with your rapscallion brother, and you’ve reunited with your brainiac girlfriend. What flavor cake would you eat on the date?”

“Chocolate is always a surefire way to go, not that I have any experience, but a pure vanilla is always pleasant,” he considered, “Though it really depends,”

“Thanks,” she smiled and dropped from the tree. She landed in a roll, stood and presented, then bowed to an invisible audience and ran off with no further ado. 

“Odd,” Steve noted, and began doing pull ups on the branches. 

As she raced through the streets and to her kitchen, an idea formulated in her mind. Rather than flowers supporting the heart, why not make a tree? Yggdrasil to be precise. The world tree, to symbolize eternal togetherness.

She got to work. A vanilla base, fluffy and light, with a sinfully heavy chocolate icing and a thin layer of glaze for shine. As soon as the base was ready, cooked in a small mixing bowl about the size of two large hands fisted together, she smoothed it off and covered it with glaze, icing, then glaze. She let it refrigerate while she began mixing the fondant and the mix for the heart. A chocolate, aerated foam she would cut and shape to the size of a small fist shaped heart. Once all the pieces were ready, she inserted sugar-glass support beams into the cake in the place of the trunk, and where the heart would sit. It was fiddly and on a small scale, but she delighted in that. she prepared the heart first, covering it with red dyed white chocolate to keep it smooth, then with more white chocolate, the first letter was added. 

Then she started on the tree. She used sugar-glass and a thinner sugar-melt that would harden upon cooling to form the outline of the tree. She began painstakingly filling in all of the leaves and branches with richly coloured fondant, adding in roots to spread over the base. She stabbed the heart into the trees, in the most romantically intended way possible, then put the whole thing in the fridge to set and rest. 

She was just sitting down to rest when there came a knocking on the kitchen door. 

“Oh, Pepper! What are you doing here?” she asked, pleasantly surprised to see who had called by.

“I’ve been asked by my boss to invite you out for dinner. Formal. A business meeting. He wishes to discuss for how much it is you’d be willing to part with your recipes for,” Pepper spoke blandly, “You are free to turn it down. I believe he wishes to show off his expensive suits and cars and house, fancy chef and all,”

“Is that so?” her smile began to twist at the corners into something a little evil, “Tell him I’d love to come. What time?”

“At seven, Happy will be here to pick you up, unless you prefer to take your own car,” Pepper said.

“I’ll be driving myself. If Anthony Stark wishes to intimidate me into selling my recipes, he has another thing coming,” she smirked her best Slytherin smirk, “I’ll be there at seven,”

Once Pepper had been sent on her way, Hyacinth rushed up to her bedroom to find her Time Turner. She hated using it, feeling it was cheating in a way. If she couldn’t run her shop without it, then she would not run it at all.

However, a lion backed into a corner… well, a lion is seldom backed into a corner. Especially one with the mind of a snake.

She turned the dial by her door to ‘FR’, and stepped out in the fourth quartiere of France. She took her time, strolling leisurely to the Champs-Élysées and began her shopping spree.

Twenty-eight hours later and she was back at home with a freshly tailored Prada suit, Lois Vuitton purse and smelling of Chanel. 

She smiled at the LV logo, reminded of another set of identical initials. She drove her small, pastel mint automobile to the garage where she stored it. A black 1954 Bentley, R-Type continental. Her mother had bought it. Never driven it, but Lily Potter bought it anyway because she loved a book that mentioned the exact model.

And so she drove, quite smugly, all the way to Tony Stark’s cliff-side villa, black and expensive Stuart Weitzman heels clicking all the way to the front door. On the dot of seven, she rang the buzzer. She was immediately meet by an English accented voice.

“Miss Black, I presume?” it said.

“Yes,”

“Please come on through,” the voice welcomed her in and the door opened by itself. She didn’t bother shutting it as she walked through, hips swishing with malice.

Pepper hurried along to greet her only to freeze.

“Hyacinth!?” 

“Yes?” she inclined herself, all Slytherin now. 

“Is that Prada!? And Louis Vuitton! SW heels? Oh my lord are those actual diamond earrings? And is that… Chanel!?” Pepper was in shock now.

“I mentioned I was well off, did I not?” she smiled.

“I didn’t think you meant to this degree,” Pepper stared, then began to smile, “Tony has another thing coming, I think,”

“Very much so. Please, show me to where we shall be dining,” she asked.

“Of course, this way,” with an air of professionalism, Pepper led the way to the deck.

“Mr. Stark, Miss Black has arrived,” Pepper announced.

“Let her through,” he waved a hand and Hyacinth adopted a petit smirk.

“Oh my, seems we shall be dining alfresco tonight,” she pulled her best Malfoy impression and glanced down at him.

“Is that Prada?” he asked, staring in astonishment.

“Oh, this? Yes. I had it tailored the other day and I thought tonight would be the perfect time to give it a test run. I am not quite pleased with the buttons you see. I’m not sure whether I prefer the matte as they are now, or if I would prefer gloss. I do hate the polyester buttons, so I specified glass instead. Of course, it is reinforced. The frosted look does give it a certain feel… perhaps I will simply order another with the clear glass instead,” she spoke casually, “What do you think Pepper?”

“I’m liking the matte. I think the shinier clear glass would contrast with the fabric too much. Buttons are supposed to be seamless, unless they are a feature,” Pepper advised.

“I see your point,” she nodded thoughtfully, not missing Peppers small smile at the banter.

“How does a baker with masteries in only ‘Spontaneous combat’, ‘Ancient runes and dialects’ and ‘experimental chemistry’, afford Prada, Chanel, Lois Vuitton and Stuart Weitzman? What do those even mean?” he glanced down at his phone to see through to the cameras outside his house, “Oh my god is that a 1954 Bentley R-type continental?”

“Precisely. Its purchase can be put down to a whim. Someone quite dear to me loved a series of books that featured one, and it was a gift for them. However, they passed away before getting to drive it. Instead it stayed in my private garage for years, unused,” she was really laying it on thick now. “And I am not a baker. I am a pastry chef who dabbles in other culinary arts,” she narrowed her eyes minutely, “However, to answer your question, I only earn as much as any successful business owner would,”

“I calculated your income. Even with as many customers as you have, there is no way you can afford those shoes,” he was so sure of himself. Like a petulant child. She laughed.

“Then let me let you in on a secret. Peverell’s Patisseries is only one of fourty-nine bakeries and patisseries around the world that I own, and as you have learned, I am not quite so friendly as I appear. My dear friend owes me a very large debt he shall not be paying off for quite some time, and this same friend has precious few morals. And while the people who work in these shops are not slaves, they are indentured to my friend, and more than willing to dedicate time to running these places. Each of these buildings is equipped with solar panels, so at the most, expenses are water and supplies,” she smiled, “Shall we eat?”

Stark nodded blandly, and led her to the table. He tried discreetly checking his phone again, whispering, ‘Jarvis, please tell me she made up some of that,’

“Negative sir. Miss Black has not displayed any of the tell-tale signs of lying. Either she is very good, or telling the truth,” Jarvis announced loudly.

“Oh I have not been so insulted in years. How strange,” Hyacinth noted, “Was there any rhyme or reason to inviting me over? Or was this just so that you could insult me in the relative safety of your own home?” 

“I wanted to discuss business. Yours, specifically. I want to buy your recipes, sell them commercially,” he began, “You’d benefit—”

“No. My recipes are mine and mine alone. I give them out only when absolutely necessary and only to those I trust not to disclose to another. Oh what delightful prawns! And that does not include you Mr. Stark,” she delicately sipped the wine offered.

She finished quickly her meal and stood.

“Otherwise, it was lovely meeting you on better terms. I am quite sure that you are usually more tolerable when not attempting to purchase another person’s living, so I shall attempt to reserve my opinion of you until that day. However, if you break into my store one more time, a gun will be the least of your worries,” she strolled towards the door, turned to a camera and mouthed a message, then left.

“Please let me walk you to your car,” Pepper offered worriedly.

“Of course,” Hyacinth smiled. As soon as they were out the door, Pepper paled dramatically, “Alright, what is it?”

“Was what you said in there really true!? Indentured workers are still slaves!” Pepper began panicking.

“Oh every word was the truth, just not the whole truth. The car was my mothers, a gift for herself, after reading a particular book series. However, I never stated who the gift was from, so I didn’t lie. I am participating in the bakers/pastry chef’s world preservation act. It essentially allows shared ownership of bakeries to preserve recipes and traditional cooking,” the last bit was a lie, but it was convincing. People often did strange things for the sake of tradition, “I also never specifically stated I was earning money off the other buildings, and as far as I know, they are all equipped with solar panels. My parents were freakishly rich, but I only use their money for emergencies, such as this. And I do have a friend who owes me a great debt, and a great many people owe him quite a lot as well. They would do whatever he said, even become bakers and pastry chefs. However, the BPCWP is completely unrelated to that,”

Pepper stared and stopped walking.

“What?”

“You could give Keyser Söze a run for his money,” Pepper sighed, “And I thought for once I had found a normal friend,”

“I am normal!” Hyacinth protested, “I have four limbs and everything! I’m even human!”

“Shoo!” Pepper flicked her hands at her and Hyacinth laughed. She got into her car, and with a few parting words, drove off. 

When she arrived at the garage, she exchanged cars, changed from her overly expensive clothing she completely despised, and into her flannelette pyjamas. She drove her comfortable, smaller car to her shop, trudged up the stairs, complained at her shoes for a while, and went to sleep early.


	4. Reluctance meet Irony

The next day when she woke up, she was excited. She whizzed downstairs to the kitchen and began to cook furiously. She barely noticed when, at half past five, a knock sounded at the front door.

“Who the… Oh!” she rushed to the door, “Bruce! This is so strange having someone else helping in the shop!”

He laughed, “I get where you’re coming from. I had to help a friend with a project a little while back, and neither of us were used to having lab partners. Luckily we got used to it,”

“Then I shall do the same! Do come in. Tea?” she offered.

“Oh, no. I had coffee earlier, so I’m all set!”

“Brilliant! In that case, you can help me stock the shelves,” she began showing him which treats go where, what needs refrigeration, and how to present things prettily. He got the hang of things quickly and before they knew it, the shop was open and Pepper strolled in for her, now routine, daily refill of ‘Stark-Bribes’. 

“Hey Pepper,” he greeted, “What would you like?”

“Good morning Bruce, love the apron,” she smiled and began listing off various treats.

“That’s… a lot of sugar,” he said, carefully packaging each of them.

“They’re for Tony,”

“Ah. I understand now,” Bruce nodded wisely.

“How are you finding it so far, I mean, it’s your first day and I’m your first official customer, but what’s your opinion so far?”

“It’s wonderful, I think,” he spoke softly, “Hyacinth is kind, and the whole building… there’s a certain feel to it. Even filled with customers it’s… relaxing. Calming. Even the Other Guy likes it here.” 

“That’s great news,” Pepper sounded relieved until her phone buzzed. She checked it and sighed, “Boss want’s his breakfast,” she held up the bag of diabetes, “I’ll see you later,”

“See you soon,” he agreed and she went on her way.

And then at eight thirty, just as he finished serving a seventy-six-year-old man and his grand-daughter, a rather amused looking man came through the doors. He wore sunglasses, had blond hair and the widest smirk.

“Wow Bruce, I didn’t see this coming. I mean, Stark was one thing, but you actually working here? Did not see that coming,” he said.

“Hello Agent Barton,” Bruce looked resigned.

“Let me guess, Natasha is secretly working the afternoon shift?”

“Steve, actually,”

Silence.

“You’re kidding!” Clint began to laugh.

“I’m not,” 

“You’re serious?”

“Quite,”

“Oh man, Fury’s gonna have a ball!”

“As if he doesn’t already know,” Bruce blinked, “Doesn’t he?”

“Nah, I’m just here for the food. Have you tried the eclairs!? They’re godly!” 

Bruce only laughed and packaged his order.

Things were going smoothly, Steve had arrived fifteen minutes early and was helping with the midday customers before his shift started. He had just come from a bizzare and alarming meeting with Director Fury.

“Captain Rodgers, why have I been hearing reports that you’re working in a bakery?” Fury seemed so done with the world right now Steve felt like he was stepping on eggshells.

“Er, it’s a patisserie, and I am, sir,” Steve tried a smile.

“And may I ask why?”

“Stability sir,” Steve replied diligently.

“Stability. That’s just like you now, isn’t it,” Fury sighed and began to shout at his nearest operative, “Find me information about this place Captain Rodgers will be telling me about!”

“With all due respect sir, there is no reason to be investigating Peverell’s Patisserie,”

The name vaguely ringing a bell, Fury glared at him, “How do you know you aren’t working with Hydra? Or worse, evil alien gods?”

“Well, there’s only two people who work with me. One I’ve personally known for a few years now, and the other… not harmless per se, but Hyacinth hardly seems like the sort of person who would work for Hydra, nor does she seem particularly alien,” Steve protested, then added, “Sir,”

“Oh? What do you know about her then?”

“She’s thirty-five, though looks about twenty, and I know, aliens, but look at Natasha. I’ve seen older women looking younger through use of make-up and cosmetics, so it isn’t that suspicious. She grew up in Surrey, England, and went to a remote private school that was completely off the grid, earning masteries in… oh, what was it? Ancient runes and dialects, Spontaneous combat, and an offshoot of experimental chemistry,” he conveyed, “The school was somehow broken down, and rebuilt. In the kitchen hang multiple paintings and photographs, one of a dark haired man with brown eyes and glasses standing beside a fair skinned woman with red hair and green eyes. The genetics match up, and seeing as the woman is heavily pregnant in the portrait, it is likely they are her parents. Beside them is a picture of an aged blonde lady, a young boy bearing startling resemblance to Hyacinth as well as Hyacinth herself. A third featuring multiple school aged friends, judging by their positioning and expressions. A blond haired blue eyed boy, and matching girl, likely siblings, as well as a stern looking teacher looking over at them in the background. Another shows a man, tall, brown hair and blue eyes, fine featured, sitting on a strange chair, wearing what could only be robes, with a snake wrapped around him. I can only assume he is fictional, posing, or a person of high standing. Shall I continue?”

“Everything you’ve got,”

“There were three other photo’s, these confused me First, a painting of a castle. I assume this is her school. Next is a photograph of the opening day of a store. The name isn’t visible, but it shows Hyacinth and two red haired boys, identical twins, cutting the ribbon to what appears to be a childrens store. The last was a painting, a caricature I believe, of a man without a nose, white skinned with red eyes, standing beside a woman similar to Hyacinth, but older and less… conservative, both dressed in some sort of robes. I believe they are depicted waving wands about. I noticed she laughs a little whenever she lays eyes upon it,”

Fury froze.

“And did she give this school a name?”

“Hogwarts, I believe,” Steve noticed Fury’s expression, “Is something wrong?”

“It might. Hyacinth Peverell is her name?”

“She says it was her grandmothers. Hyacinth Black is what she goes by,”

“Shit,” Fury was in instant panic mode. “Which friend is it working with you?”

“How haven’t you already heard? It’s Bruce and I,” he said, “I understand you not wanting us working in public, but this is really—”

“No, that puts me at ease,” Fury had calmed somewhat.

“…Pardon?”

“Knowing that two capable fighters will be on scene with her, that eases my mind,”

“Is Hyacinth in danger?”

“Quite the opposite,” Fury grimaced.

“Sir, you can’t possibly be implying that Hyacinth of all people is a danger to the public!? I mean, I suppose she ran Tony out of her shop, and threatened him with a gun, and tried to exorcise him…”

Fury choked down a laugh, “Then Stark should be thanking the stars for his life if that’s all she did. Listen Rodgers, just be careful around her. Do exactly as she says when she says. Treat her like you would treat me but without the disrespect. Be polite, punctual and never show doubt or suspicion. I heard she doesn’t like it when people don’t blink, so don’t do that either,”

“Sir!?”

Fury sighed, “Look, if Miss Black is who I’m thinking she is, then there is a high possiblility that the person you’re working for is the equivalent of Loki, but successful and crueler than you could possibly imagine. That stunt Loki pulled in Stuttgart, that’s got nothing on Miss Black on a good day. To the point that if anyone finds out I told you this, everyone on this Helicarrier will be killed. No exceptions,”

“Sir, you can’t be serious!” Steve cried, “Hyacinth is odd, yes, but nothing more than that!”

“Steve, I know you like to see the good in people, but if this girl has even a shred of what you’re seeing in her, I will eat my eye-patch. She is dangerous!” Fury stressed, “Why do you think I haven’t called her in already!”

Steve frowned but assented. 

“Well then you may wish to warn Mr Stark as well,” he said.

It couldn’t be true. Hyacinth knew the names of all her customers, she gave out free candy to children for heaven’s sake! She was just eccentric.

…

Hyacinth payed the two no mind and was preparing a few restocks of the meringue for the afternoon, it was popular with the old ladies when Bruce came in to hang up his apron. She said goodbye and let him out the back way. It was another hour later that Steve, apron and cap secured, knocked politely on the door. She was filled with joy at the sight. He had taken her requests seriously and respected her wishes! 

“Ah, Miss Foster and her… beloved, are here,” he spoke, voice oddly strangled.

“Ah! Perfect!” she got up quickly and rushed to the fridge, removing the special cake she had prepared the day before, “Ask for the man’s first name, I need a letter to complete this,”

“His name starts with ‘T’. We’ve met,” Steve winced. Bruce had told him that Clint had been by earlier, but had promised not to tell Fury they were working here. He didn’t have the heart to tell him that he had told Fury that morning. This was getting ridiculous though, it’s as if the shop was becoming the new Avengers HQ.

“Oh! Even better!” she whipped out a small pipette, completed the ‘J + T’ in the heart, and carefully boxed the cake. She bit her lip in worry, then closed her eyes, angling away from the door and focusing very, very hard. She concentrated the passive magic in the air and coiled the emotive magics for ‘love’ and ‘protection’ around the box. Seeing as she couldn’t so much as perform a simple stasis charm, she needed as much insurance as she could get for something so fragile. She picked up the box and carried it through the door to the shop. 

She positively beamed when she saw Jane’s eyes widen at the special box. Meanwhile, the passive magic built up around her changed to confusion and forgetfulness, as well as tranquility, aimed solely at the big blonde man beside Jane.

“I’m not usually a cake person, but this… I think is worth it,” she handed it over, “Try not to hold it upside down though,”

She placed it on the counter and smiled at Thor, “Hello! I don’t believe we’ve met. You must be Jane’s long distance beloved,” she liked the word Steve used, especially when Jane began to cough lightly, “My name is Hyacinth,”

“Thor,” he shook her hand, blinking a little strangely. There was something wrong with this human, “Lady Jane tells me you are quite the, ehem, pastry chef,”

“Oh I like this one. And yes, I like to think I’m one of the best!” she smiled proudly, “Though I rarely bake cakes, I hope that this one turns out to be just as delicious as my other treats! And don’t worry about how to eat it. There are forks in there. You’ll have to share the platter however. More romantic anyway. I shan’t delay you further, are you going someplace sweet?”

“Yes, the park around the corner. We’re having a picnic,” Jane smiled.

“Yes, I am very much excited to try a ‘picnic’,” the word sounded foreign coming from Thor. 

“Do you mind if we take a peak ahead of time?” Jane asked, eying the box.

“Tut tut,” Hyacinth turned her nose in the air, “It’s a surprise. You’ll love it,”

“Thank you so much Hyacinth, this really means a lot,” Jane smiled gratefully. She clearly wanted a hug, so Hyacinth placed the box in her hands.

“Yes, yes, now off be it with you! Enjoy your date!” Hyacinth beamed, waving as they exited the store. She retreated to her kitchen, smiling and pleased with herself. And then she frowned, “I hope Jane has aspirations for a golden apple,”

She stared at her workbench and then decided. She felt like cookies. She slid the meringue into the heat to crisp. They would be ready in an hour and a half. She then pulled out the flour, egg, sugar, brown sugar, milk, chocolate, and a few secret ingredients, and began mixing. 

While they required a hell of a lot of fluffing and beating to make light enough, as opposed to the thick and dense commercial cookies, the end result was more than worth it. They would only take about ten minutes to cook, and she prepared the decorations while she waited. 

While the cookies were already a dark brown chocolate colour, she decided more chocolate would be the way to go. With a long, plastic sheet and a few delicate stencils, she brushed out a thin layer of chocolate that she let harden in the cool air. 

After a few minutes, spent licking the chocolate bowl clean, she removed the huge tray of cookies from the second shelf in the oven, and placed it on the work bench. Before the cookies could cool, she began justifying their lack of chocolate chips by carefully peeling off pale, milk chocolate butterflies from the plastic sheet, and placing them on the cookies, where they melted slightly to fit the shape. When she was done, she had a large array of chocolate butterfly cookies. She separated ten from the lot of nearly fourty, and left them on the bench.

The others, once cooled, she arrayed on a plate and took to the display case. She slid the cookies in, butterflies upright and forwards-facing, then added a mini chalkboard sign reading the price. 

She went to the cash register and quickly added to the food list ‘Butterfly cookies’, and listed the price, and let the technology do the rest.

“Truly, what they come up with these days is incredible,” she remarked, “Everything is designed to be convenient,”

“And then shall come the day technology turns against us, and when we must rely on the old fashioned ways, we shall be helpless,” Steve nodded, “Pretty butterflies,”

“Thanks,” she bagged a fruit tart and a mint-chocolate slice for a man and let Steve punch in the order, “Goodness knows what ridiculous invention that Stark maniac will come up with next. Killer robots?”

“I hear he’s working on that,” Steve replied, hiding his humorlessness behind faked mirth, trying to remember to blink.

“Of course he is,” she hung her head, “And of all the idiots to try and do so, he’s most likely to succeed. Tell me if we run out of anything,”

Up until then, she had had no worries. But the realization of what could happen triggered something strange in her. She felt wood in her hands and they clenched, knowing precisely what it was. 

“Perhaps, if a safe future is to be ensured, a sacrifice must be made,” she sighed and placed the elder wand on a shelf to stay until after work.

Time flew quickly after that, and soon Steve was knocking on her door, ready to sign off and bidding her farewell, “Is there anything I can do to help clean up?”

“No, no. But thank you. It is a ritual of mine, a way to relax after work,” she smiled.

“In that case, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he grinned, hung up his apron, and walked out the back.

Once she had packed and cleaned, she took the elder wand to her room, threw it on her bed, and took a shower. The hot water straightened her hair and made her feel clean. Though she had showered in the morning, she showered once more to rid herself of leftover pastry.

She stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself with a towel, then walked back into the main bedroom. Once she was no longer dripping, she dropped her towel and stared at herself in her full length mirror.

A not at all normal mirror.

Her hair was long, reaching past her hips. Her figure was petit, but not unfit. Years of Quidditch did that to you. While not the most womanly, she was proud of what she had. Her skin was clean and full of life. She was healthy, not an illness nor ailment. 

And then she realized it.

“I could stay like this forever. I wouldn’t age or fall ill. I wouldn’t…” she sighed and shook her head. She couldn’t. She missed magic dearly, but… she wanted to die someday. It was nonnegotiable. She couldn’t stand living forever. The loneliness, the grief, remaining unattached and distant, never feeling pain.

“You would have Marvolo with you,” her reflection pointed out.

“I would,” it was an enchanted mirror, designed to flatter and assist, though she had this one charmed as a conversation partner, even imbuing a few memories for realism and perspective.

“And there are other species that last ages longer than humans,”

“But…”

“And you forget. As Death’s master, it isn’t as if you’ll never die. You can die whenever you want to, and when you tire of that, you can move on to life once more,” 

“…heh?”

“Master of death, means master of rebirth. You could easily set this life to mortal, and at the end, join the reincarnation stream for a few turns, spend a little while with actual families, then be immortal for a while, travelling a while and learning, die for a bit, become human for another while, visit all the planets of the universe. It’s not as if you’ll suddenly have to spend the rest of your days on earth watching people die! Goodness knows you aren’t going to be stuck in the one place, Death doesn’t do paperwork. And as the master of death, well, it’s literal, isn’t it? ‘Oh no! Someone died! Not again! This is getting tedious, bringing people back to life that I care about!’” her reflection growled, “Dead parents? Not a problem! Dead friends? Slight problem considering how they died, I mean, Peeves was fun, but twin poltergeists? Scary,”

“You aren’t my reflection,” Hyacinth stated, the passive magic rolling off her.

“Heh, heh, you,” her reflection had the gall to look sheepish, “You caught me…?”

Hyacinths magic snapped around her, passive only in its classification. It itched to hurt and maim and do other terrible things. She took a breath and suddenly all was calm.

“Hello Death,”


End file.
